366 Days Of Something
by QuickSilverFox3
Summary: A 366 words long Stucky ficlet for every day in the year: 27/01 (I'm using Microsoft Word Count for this) Just to clarify there will be a series of AUs for each which may or may not be continued so just ask if anything's confusing
1. On The Judgement Day (Judge)

"Please."  
The man's fingers were cold, tips stained red by the harsh wind that rattled through the sparse trees, money clattering to the smooth stone floor as his hands trembled.  
"Please," he whispered once more, voice hoarse as he repeated his plea, once a desperate scream many days ago, now faded to a soft whisper.

And yet it was heard.

"I know he was yours to take, but he was mine to have" Steve began his plea again, words falling on unhearing ears, outstretched hands curled to push the scant coppers into the offered silver palm, metal and unforgiving against caresses. He remained kneeling there as rain plummeted down from the heavens, plastering lank and lifeless blonde hair to his cheeks, masking the steady drip of tears from bloodshot blue eyes. The single flame inside the small shrine flickered and danced, fighting against the gusts of cold wind that invaded the sanctuary through the many gaping holes in the roof and walls, the signs of a battle still engraved on every stone and yet still it remained strong. And still the man remained.

He kept his head lowered, it was too painful to gaze upon it now and he did not believe that the tightening of his heart and the sorrow that pounded through his veins would ever change as he could still picture for the face the statue wore was a familiar one, and now one that would his every moment, both waking and lost in the blackness that constituted as rest for him ever since that day. He- It faced the horizon, face calm as it never had been in life as unseeing eyes stared out to the point where the sea melded with the horizon, one hand outstretched in an offering and the other almost shocking in its absence.

Heavy bells rang out once more as Steve stirred, bones cracking as he wavered to his feet, a mumbled offering the first thing to fall from his lips as he stumbled back down to town, another nightly vigil leaving him a broken man.

Slowly, silver melted from the statue, running in rivulets to hiss on impact as the figure collapsed heavily, breathing once more.


	2. Always By My Side (Division)

The morning dawned, bright and clear, the heavy purple storm clouds which had threatened the night before had long since gone. Slowly the sun began to peak above the horizon, and the normally comforting light following the chill of night sent tremors of terror down the spines of the weary scouts as they scrambled to their feet, screams replacing words. Within seconds of the first scream splitting the air, the camp erupted into a hive of activity, soldiers streaming out of their tents, blearily blinking into the light of day, only to freeze where they stood.

Faces turned upwards to stare mutely and silently at the red mark slowly stretching its way across the sun. The commander tilted his head towards a subordinate, his single eye not moving from the encroaching smear.  
"Go contact the Sergeant. Can't wait any longer."

"No."  
"James."  
Blankets carefully parted allowing a single eye, screwed up against the painful light taking in the forms of the two women staring at him.  
"I said no more," he informed them, already feeling the fruitlessness of his half-hearted endeavour increase as Natasha's eyebrow raised up.  
"You can't make me," he tried again, meeting a stare that braver men had fled from, from Maria.  
"You're right," Natasha conceded suddenly, prompting surprised blinks from the pair of them. "I can physically drag you down there, stick you up on that platform and watch as all those soldiers stare at you because we need you right now. But I can't make you teach. And that's what we need right now."  
"Fine," James grumbled, rolling out of bed and scrabbling underneath the bed for his boots, "You didn't have to be so _you_ about it though."

It was dark and cold and felt like greeting an old friend, all awkwardness and uncertainty fading away from him as he righted himself, feet hitting what solid ground thought it felt like.  
One hand raised, blood still oozing from the shallow cut, he began to chant, the familiar fear beginning to creep up his spine as something's out there noticed him. It charged across the darkness towards the glimmer of light, gaining closer and closer and then-  
Something grabbed his hand.


	3. Forever and Ever (Hate)

It started out with all the classic warning signs: eyes wide and staring at the toy, once pristine and clean and now ripped and ruined in the mud; face paling as his brain furiously struggled to make sense of the current situation; one hand slowly, almost mournfully, curling into a fist where there had previously been a hand sewn limb resting; tears beginning to glisten in his eyes as everything sunk in all at once, face screwing up as the first trembling breath was sucked in through a tight throat to begin the long wail. Ears pricked up as heads began to swivel, the silence before the storm as telling as the shriek, eyes frantically scanning students as they hunted out the source of the warning.

Eyes alighted on the young boy at the same time as another set, and while the youngest teacher hurriedly pushed herself to her feet, tugging her long t-shirt further down as navigating the minefield of toy bricks and small fingers consumed most her attention, Steve Rogers rocketed out from the confines of the naughty stool to cross the gap faster than any adult could, diving at the sniggering older child with all the fury of an enraged lion.  
"Steven Grant Rogers!"  
The yell had little effect to the fighting child, face already splattered with tiny blood drops from one well aimed swing at an already injured nose, cartoonish plaster insufficient for this injury, until Darcy reached them, eyes wide as she yanked Steve upwards with a strong grip under his arms, nails curling around like talons.

Steve hated the naughty bench. He huffed out another breath and continued scowling resolutely at the wall, the cheery pictures somehow highlighting his torment.  
"Thank you."  
The words were whispered out of the corner of a mouth already occupied with a crayon.  
"It was nothing," Steve whispered back, a grin splitting his face, "What's your name?"  
"Bucky. And that was Bucky Bear you avenged."  
"My name's Steve."

And just like that, the friendship was sealed, cemented by apology cookies (from Mrs' Rogers) and thank the Lord cookies (from Mrs' Barnes and Bucky's sisters) the next morning with Bucky Bear's new stiches shining and new.


	4. Burning My Skin Only For You (Hour)

"This is a terrible idea."  
Steve ignored the quiet grumble with all the ease of one well accoustemed to sly little digs at anything he did and continued to sketch the symbols onto the floor, hands covered with chalk dust and the tip of his tongue resting between his teeth as he did so.  
"Seriously this may even beat your infamous 'lets try to pet the werewolf alpha on full moon while bleeding' scheme and I never thought I would ever say that."  
"The bleeding part of that plan was an accident. And anyway it worked," Steve pointed out, a series of cracks following his movements as he stretched upwards, sleeves slipping down to reveal parts of the inky black symbols decorating his skin.  
"Barely. It was only because I was there that you lived past the age of five."  
"I would have made it to at least seven Bucky."  
The demon bit back a laugh at that, eyes momentarily glowing an intense golden sheen before he resumed his gentle swinging, the bell he was hanging from letting out a muffled mournful tune complemented by the quiet humming, almost lost in the din of squawking pigeons, making a bid for freedom through the broken, blood stained shards of the stained glass windows.  
"Steve?"  
"Yeah Bucky?"  
The demon screwed up his face, one hand coming up to scratch at the bone protrusions on his head.  
"I know I don't really say it much, cause we don't do squish, but I do appreciate what you did for me."  
Steve began to protest but stopped, choosing instead to grin upwards, "You're welcome."

It happened too quickly, the panicked screech- more bird than human- intermingling with the sudden stink of brimstone and sulphur flooding his nose before something heavy impacted with him, all burning cold and soft feathers, until his head impacted with the cold stone floor and he knew no more.

Waking up hurt, stabbing pain in his head, but that was nothing compared to the agony in his heart as he watched Bucky writhe on the floor, the runes opening words as fast as they closed, as hanging over his head, a clock steadily ticked down one hour.


	5. Red on Black and White (Canvas)

Breathing became difficult, windpipe tightening as he struggled to reclaim the air which had escaped from his lungs only seconds prior in a terrified scream. Blearily, from some distance away he heard the familiar pounding on the wall, an irate neighbour roused from their once peaceful slumber. There would be anger in the morning, notes slipped through his letterbox, anonymous except for the clear knowledge of who it was in the clear block print of his name: Mister Rogers…

It had happened again, the dream clinging to his skin like cobwebs, unable to shake the shivering lingering touch as he ran his palms over the prickling skin, fingers freezing against his skin. Shower. Now.

Sleep descended upon him even as he sat there, legs dangling over the edge, toes brushing against the void as Steve slowly sank back into the damp blankets and his eyes slipped closed once more.

Dark marks appeared on the canvas, small stump of charcoal clutched between stained fingers, large blue eyes following the movement of his hand from a few scant inches away. Blonde hair flopped in front of his eyes only to be shoved back under the loose hat.  
"Have you got a problem with me?"  
Steve blinked, frowning up at the man staring at him, features previously sharp on the paper inches from his face, blurred and unclear in person.  
"I'm right there. Naked. Posing. And you stare at the outline sketch instead again. Have I offended you Steve?"  
The reply never came as a blade extended from James' chest, a strangled gasp erupting from him.

Red splattered over the canvas, blindingly bright in his world of muted hues, hands heavy on his back, dragging him down with James to the cold floor. The man's breath was struggling in his ear, gasps that matched the frantic pounding of Steve's heart.  
"I'm sorry. I-"

The sun was bright against Steve's eyes as he buried his face in his hands and wept for someone that he knew only in his dreams.


	6. Enter To a Whole New World (Building)

"So aren't you going to invite me in?"  
The man seemed to be dressed normally enough for a Halloween party, long velvet cape partially draped over one arm to keep it from trailing in the mud that was once an immaculate front lawn, a streak of red paint trailing from one lip indented by the two fake fangs that were now in full display as he grinned at Steve.  
"It is a Halloween party. You're meant to come and go as you please," Natasha pointed out, appearing like the ghost she was dressed as behind him, arm smearing grey paint into Steve's hair as she stretched out her other fist to bump it to the mans.  
"James. Steve."  
"Hey Nat. And I just like to be polite is all."  
"Uh huh and that's just a costume."  
James gave her a long slow look somehow managing to convey tons of unspoken words into the movement of long black lashes before turning his gaze back towards Steve, still enchanted and fingers itching to commit the contours of his jaw to paper.  
"My mamma raised me to be a polite Brooklyn boy, so can I come in?"

Everything in Steve's world narrowed down to this moment. Gone was the cheers of the groups inside, huddled around tables with the rhythmic hollow sound of ping pong balls echoing out in the gaps; gone was the clink of glass on the table, luminous punch, more alcohol than fruit, oozing into glasses, gone was the steady presence of Natasha against his back. Everything was this familiar stranger and Steve struck with the need to know more, to see more to do more.

And that was a strange feeling.

"Sure you can come in. And it's a standing invitation because friends of Nat's are occasionally friends of mine," Steve grinned with a sly wink up at Natasha, who scoffed at him, continuing her plaiting of his paint streaked hair.  
"After all, my mother didn't raise a rude Brooklyn boy either."  
Bucky's eyes lit up at that, crossing the boundary with a sigh of relief, rubbing cold hands over cold arms and nudging Steve with his hip.  
"So you gonna give me the tour?"


	7. The Dutchman Must Have A Captain (Smile)

The music was almost like a siren's call, creeping through the crack in his curtains along with the slim tendrils of moonlight that slipped out from behind the heavy clouds. Bucky lay frozen in his head, muscles tense and teeth bared as if caught in the claws of a nightmare, save for his eyes which stared, dark and unblinking at a discoloured patch on the ceiling. Shakily he stretched out one hand, searching fingers first brushing over the soft fur of his service dog, who let out a soft snore, rolling over to snuggle closer to his side; before bumping against the cold iron ring and Bucky jerked his hand back with a soft cry as if burned, all thoughts of his cigarette erased from his mind.

 _Steve Grant Rogers…_

That wasn't his true name, that one had been whispered into Bucky's ears in the dead of night as the two boys lay in bed, with their legs intertwined in the blankets and fingers interconnected as if the simple power of his touch would be enough to anchor to other to his realm.

Steve's hands had been so cold against his on the day of their parting, the same wild music flooding the air, causing Bucky's feet to pound against the floor in a harsh drum beat, every cell in his body aflame as he yearned to throw himself once more in the press of bodies Steve had pulled him from.  
"Why'd you do that?" he asked, his grin feeling stretched against his skin, pulling futility against Steve's grip.  
"I'm sorry Bucky." The words seemed to come from far away, almost as if he were drowning in the music. "I never should have let you come here, I never should have let you approach me. We're too different."  
The words, tinged with a heavy sorrow, momentarily broke through the heavy fog and Bucky's grin faltered on seeing the sorrowful curve of Steve's indented lips.  
"Promise you won't look for me when you hear the music. I must take your place, my freedom for yours my love."

Bucky howled to the air, feet twitching in steps he did not know to a music only he could hear.


	8. Promises, Promises (Part)

"It all wasn't my fault you know."  
"Oh no that was all you Stevie, don't even try and deny it."  
Popcorn bounced off of Tony's head slowly drawing him into the conversation which had been waging around him. When he first settled himself down courtesy of Bruce carrying him out of the lab and dropping him into a chair, even as he sleepily and loudly protested. A bowl of something hot, spicy and delicious quickly followed even as Bruce busied himself behind the counter, his movements soothing and unobtrusive until the food was gone, spoon scraping against the bowl, and a journal replaced it, soon consuming his interest.

"What are you both talking about?"  
"Look who decided to join us," Bucky laughed, idly tossing more popcorn in Steve's general direction, shots still accurately landing in his mouth, sketch pad balanced on his knees, pen tucked behind his ear.  
"Could you please tell Steve it was his fault?"  
"Huh?" Tony replied, gaze fastened onto the metal arm, exposed blade dancing between the fingers.  
Bucky rolled his eyes, slowing down the flickering silver as Steve snorted in laughter from the opposite couch, Tony's gaze slipping into the realm of the theoretical as words and numbers began to dance in front of his eyes.  
"You're both pretty guys so stop teasing him. Bruce declared a time out on mechanical work yeah?" Steve laughed, gaze returning to the drawing with a furrow creasing his brow.  
"And anyway," he continued slowly, thumbs smudging the heavy graphite lines between words, "not my fault."

Tony cast one more longing look at the arm, a true mechanical marvel despite the blood Bucky believed he would never remove from his heads (metaphorically of course, Tony Stark was a master inventor after all) and cast his mind back to the heavy book in his hands, blocking out the argument quietly raging around him. Everyone knew by know that they wouldn't explain until they wanted to, their own version of inside jokes.

Slowly though the argument filtered back into his mind, one phrase in particular sticking in his mind:  
"Steve, the Smithsonian have a nude portrait of me that you promised you would burn. It's on _display_."


	9. Hear The Bells Chime (Pain)

It was a heavy title to bear, the constant presence of the bells dragging him down even as the smiles on people's faces slipped away when they noticed the bandolier strapped across his chest. He was never wanted around, only needed. He accepted that now, just as he accepted the steady padding of feet behind him, intermingled with faint chimes.

Steve knew what the villagers whispered behind his back as he worked in silence, save the whistles needed to command the bells, harmonious and chilling tune forcing the Dead back behind the gate. Well, all except one.

And no-one mentioned that one to him, no one even dared to gaze upon it for too long unless his wrath turned upon them. They all knew who he was, just as surely as they knew who the Abhorsen was and that meant they knew the story. Or a version of the story. No one but them knew the truth.

' _I miss that sometimes._ '  
The words were nothing more than whisper on the breeze, an icy chill down Steve's back even as his gaze shifted unbidden to the small group of children performing some kind of game, hopping and skipping as they laughed together, unimpinged by the fearful aura of their parents hovering in doorways..  
' _Do you remember? When we were younger, you were adorable.'_  
He's not real, Steve reminded himself without breaking his side, fingers curling into fists against the ever present cold, brusquely nodding at the village Elder as he left, sensing the relaxation of the woman as he did so.

The Abhorsen was meant to have a companion from beyond the Gates, those who knew the legends expected to see Mog or the Dog lolloping along at his side until the saw the icy figure, recognised his face and horror filled their eyes.

He was meant to remove the Dead wherever he walked, and yet he could, would not banish this soul beyond the Gates.

" _I'll always keep you safe Steve. Death isn't about to stop me."_

And that was his fault. All his fault. Icy fingers touched his as Steve walked, gaze never shifting as he walked out of the Underworld of his own creation.


	10. It's a Gryffindor Thing (Competition)

Everything started with a small notice pinned up in the common room, obtuse save for the large crowd it gathered in the early hours in the morning. Steve stumbled down, being knocked from side to side as his larger roommates stampeded past him.  
"Hey Steve!" One of them called, barely disguised laughter in his voice, "Reckon you and your 'Puff could do this."  
A piece of parchment was roughly shoved into his palm and that simple action spawned a competition and a legend spoken of across the ages.

"What kind?" Bucky asked, his words distorted as he contorted his mouth in the floating mirror, muggle lipstick gently smoothing across his mouth in a bright, vivid red.  
"A kissing one."  
A sigh, eyes cast to the ceiling before his gaze returned to Steve.  
"So how do we win?"  
"Kiss for at least 30 seconds without being caught in the weirdest place as interpreted from this prompt on the recording parchment."  
Steve paused for a moment before asking, "You're not weirded out by this?"  
"Nope. It's a ridiculously Gryffindor thing to do, I hate bullies as do you, and I like winning. There is literally no downside to this situation." Bucky batted his eyelashes dramatically at Steve before passing him a small pot, "Mind doing my eyeliner babe?"

Round one was easy enough: In a place of learning.  
"Come on Steve."  
"Aren't I meant to be the brash one in the relationship?"  
"You are. It's totally safe. Now I'm in a skirt, this really isn't comfortable so please climb up?"  
Steve sighed and rolled his eyes as he began to scramble up the rickety ladder balanced against the shelves.  
"My mother warned me about smooth-talking Hufflepuff's who would get way into contests on my behalf and talk me up onto the top of library shelves."  
"I always knew there was a reason I loved your mother," Bucky countered, reaching out to steady Steve as he carefully shuffled his way forward, "Now c'mere."

"We're third Steve. Third!"  
"Can't be having that can we?"  
"There's my brave, lack of forward planning Gryffindor. Now where's next?"  
Steve grinned up at his boyfriend with a red smeared mouth. Enthusiasm really was catching.


	11. Ever So Fragile (Weather)

**Returning From The Military Steve & Barista ex Military Bucky**

"You'll thank me for this later!"

People turned their heads to stare as Natasha leant out of the sun roof, hands cupped to her mouth as Sam quickly drove away, one hand raised in a silent apology, Steve stood there for a long moment mouth agape before the rolling boom of thunder in the distance heralded the rainstorm which had been looming threateningly overhead all day. Biting back a curse, Steve dashed for the small coffee shop as the first of the heavy raindrops impacted against the ground like tiny bombs.

Looks like Natasha's plan had worked, a fact which was a surprise to no one.

The scent of coffee was like a wall as the bell rang merrily, warmth sinking into Steve's bones as he hesitated for a brief moment, eyes flickering around the shop in uncertainty. A man sitting in the corner caught his eye, gaze dropping down briefly to check his phone before returning once more to Steve's to idly grin at his shocked expression.  
"Would you like to order sir?"

The barista was half leaning on her register, carefully setting a cup down next to it as she licked her lips, before calmly repeating the question, eyebrow quirking upwards almost reflexively as Steve jerked into movement.  
"I'll have a hot chocolate please," Steve asked, following the heartbeat it took to scan the menu board with the almost illegible tiny cursive text.  
"Would you like marshmallows and cream with that?" she queried before another voice answered.  
"As if there's any other way to take it Darcy!"  
Without missing a beat, she called, "Shut up Barnes!" At Steve's befuddled nod, she rang it through the register, took his money (exact change because some habits were just too hard to break) as the man sauntered over, jacket thrown on over his work uniform.  
"Your name's Steve yeah? Nat mentioned you'd be dropping by."  
"She is determined to get me integrated," Steve murmured back, briefly making eye contact.  
"Don't I know it," he laughed, "Name's Bucky. She did the same to me and Sam. You can now join our super-secret girl gang."

Maybe this wouldn't be that bad after all and Steve returned the grin carefully, softly.


	12. Only Ever You (Fire)

_I was having technical difficulties so couldn't manage to write anything! Sorry ^^;_ **WS! Erskine Serum! Steve and Cap! Hydra Serum! Bucky**

He was going to die. That was it. He knew what it was when he was first dragged to the table, bravado and bluster wiped away at the sight of the glowing liquid. Those taken before him were dragged past their cages to shock them into compliance, veins glowing blue and bodies grotesque. This was the end. And there would be no-one to look after Steve.

And then there was light in this hell hole, breaking off the endless gasp of numbers. Steve, just as small and sickly as he remembered, pulling him up off the table and half carrying him down to the men still trapped, unwilling to follow a disabled man. But they would follow Bucky.

It became almost a running joke that would confuse historians in the years to come. Captain America who would laugh at the name, insist on being called Bucky, following his smaller, weaker sidekick who could lift a motor car. Like the ice which covered his legacy, propaganda would remove his past.

Smoke billowed from the train, stinging their eyes and all Bucky could think was an endless stream of nononononono, stretching out as far as he could reach and then even further, until the metal shrieked under his weight and Steve fell into the nothingness.

Nothing felt quite real after that, almost a dream state powered by the burning weight of guilt in his veins. It still burnt after the ice, burnt when he was alongside his new teammates. It burnt brightest when the historians approached, eager faced and bright eyed with their questions.

"I was never Captain America. That was always Steve."  
"Nope, Steve's idea."  
"That was all Steve."  
"Like I'd ever be that dumb."

And none of them asked the question he could see brewing behind their eyes as the conferences wore on and on and on, the question to which the answer would be a simple "Yes."

Bucky Barnes loved too much. He loved Sam, he loved Natasha, he loved the girl who gave him his coffee. But he had never loved anyone the way he loved Steve.  
"Who the hell is Steve?"  
His heart broke, shattered into a million pieces onto the grimy asphalt.


	13. Fight For You (Protest)

**Mutant AU**

"Steve! Where are you going?"  
Steve didn't even need to turn to picture Bucky, standing in the doorway, tatty apron loosely knotted around his hips and his left arm rapidly reforming back into metal fingers with nothing more than the force of his will.  
"You know where I'm going Buck," Steve grumbled, carefully folding up his legs to repass them through the window, imprint from the sill branded on his legs.  
Bucky sighed, old arguments balancing on his lips and the outcomes passing through his mind before he swayed over to the couch and collapsed onto it, springs exploding over the weight alongside the heavy rainstorm which had sprung up over head.  
"I can fight my own battles," Bucky mumbled, cancelling the illusion on his arm with a groan, wriggling his right hand at Steve like he was trying to coax an irritated cat out of hiding.  
Steve could never say no to Bucky and so went with only minimal grumbling, feet barely brushing Bucky's ankles as his head was tucked under his chin, the strong heart beat under his ear lulling him into a doze.

It lasted until Bucky's breaths trailed off into something deep and slow and Steve's eyes flickered open. The warmth of Bucky's arm was almost too good to leave, but he had to. He had to do this, for Bucky who wouldn't fight himself because of the risk to Steve.

Steve had grown up around mutants, had spent some days purely in the company of mutants while his mother worked her fingers to the bone, and even then he had never seen so many and yet here they were, spilling out across the streets, placards held defiantly upwards under the unforgiving stares of the helmeted policemen, shields held aloft.

It was almost reflexive at this point to scramble down the rusted fire escape, metal creaking under his slight weight. He became swallowed by the crowd, becoming swept along in the endless tramp of marching feet and mutters of dissent that the silent watching eyes of the police created.

"Steve!"

And that was Bucky, fireworks pouring from his skin as he dived through the crowd, fixed on Steve's location. Time to run.


	14. Red Strings Bind Me And You (Love)

**Mortal Instrument AU: Shadowhunter! Bucky & Downworlder! Steve**

Red strings were a wonderful thing in theory, the eternal guide to the other piece of your heart; the part you never knew you were missing and that was fine for the Mundanes' to believe in their own little blind world but for a Shadowhunter it was simply another complication in an already deadly world. And yet still Bucky hoped, a tiny fragile thing protected by the fragile shell of his ribs, as he inspected the trembling strings wrapped around one fingers, gently stroking it to try and convey something to his other half.

It was still red as blood and that was a comfort in of itself. He glanced over the shades within his own group, ranging from reds to black to the dreaded grey.  
"It's downtime tonight isn't Sarge?" Gabe asked, half hidden behind the sprawling wall of his paper.  
"Yeah?" Bucky questioned, the string wrapped round his fingers in a complex cat's cradle as he tried to drown himself in coffee, already sensing where this conversation was going.  
"You promised."

It was strange how one's persons fate could change so much by one action. From the moment that the mask was strapped across his face, Marks hidden behind sleeves and blades tucked deeply into their belts. And then they were alone in a sea of people, drinks slipping down their throats in shimmering hues, hands grasping theirs as they spun out across the crowded street, vampires mingling with werewolves, while warlocks slipped between groups, inhuman features twisting and swirling underneath the heady alcohol.

Bucky slammed into a group, their faces running down their skulls under the weight of his eyes and he laughed, the noise the high fluctuating noise of a hyena.  
"You've had way too much to drink."  
It almost seemed to float out of his hands, spilling neon blue alongside the high pitched whine.  
"Come on Shadowhunter."  
A hand slipped into his, arm pulled around the shoulders of the man, Bucky half lying on him, legs uncooperative. Red strings coiled and intertwining, humming as the two ends brushed together for the first time.

Bucky woke up, feathers everywhere, note scrawled onto his arm and an overwhelming sense of loss drowning him.


	15. Colours In My Mind (Sneeze)

**Star Trek AU**

"Even a simple cold can prove deadly upon a starship. Unchecked disease can decimate your crew and therefore it is your job as members of the medical field to keep an eye on each crew member's individual health. This means record keeping."

Dimly the words of Bucky's old medical teacher, distorted through Bucky's caffeine high rendition atop his pile of books, filtered through Steve's mind as he stifled another sneeze in the oil stained sleeve of his uniform, the sound echoing oddly in the Jeffery's tube he had managed to wedge himself in. He could hear vague movements outside but everything else disappeared as he wriggled the pad up from where it was digging into his chest and activated the program he had constructed.

Colours flashed in front of his eyes as the hologram booted up, scrolling lines of text highlighting the darker areas and Steve became lost in colours he would never see correctly, curled into a tube while others scurried around like ants below him, their laughter warming his chest as the heat from the engines embraced him.

"Hello baby."  
Steve blinked groggily, mind still swimming with facts and numbers, half-finished diagrams slowly forming at his fingertips as Bucky waved at him through the haze, a fond grin on his face.  
"Bucky?"  
As if on cue his nose began to twitch, a tickle forming in the back of his throat, Adams apple bobbing as he tried to discreetly swallow.  
"Did I miss lunch again?" Steve tried, confused by the sudden appearance of the other.  
"Check-up time," Bucky stated with false brightness, "I already know you have a cold so you might as well sneeze."

Steve laughed, the sound interrupted by the sudden fit of sneezing, then a yelp of pain as Bucky jabbed a hypo into his arm, the tiny needle retreating into his prosthetic finger as his thumb rubbed soothing over the tiny mark.  
"I would kiss it better, but I don't think I can fit in there," Bucky teased, stray locks of hair falling loosely into his face and Steve could think of nothing better to do than to wriggle forwards, small stature aiding him in this respect, to gently kiss Bucky.


	16. Circles That Bind (Market)

**AU based on Tamora Pierce's 'Circle Of Magic' series**

Bucky shouted out the wares once more, comforting weight of the few coins jingled in his pocket. Dark eyes constantly flickered around the crowd, years of harsh treatment melding with the heavy longing dragging down his heart as he took in purses and blades up to the lack of blonde hair and laughing blue eyes. Gasping for breath, throat parched underneath the burning heat of the sun, he darted through the crowd towards the glittering water of the fountain.  
It was such a simple coincidence at first, coins tumbled into his grasping hand out of sheer reflex to avoid the aching pangs of hunger. Just his luck to pick the pocket of a mage.

"So why me?" Bucky asked finally, breaking his self-imposed silence after three days, curled up in the wagon, bare left side pressed against the wall.  
"We look for people with unusual magic," Pepper answered, soothingly as if speaking to a feral animal, "With you it seems to be some sort of animal magic. We have a weather witch at the cottage."  
Bucky blew out a breath through his nose, abruptly turning his head to the other side to stare out of the window at the weary faces that passed, mental checklist kicking in once more.

Steve clicked his fingers, the small breeze stirring the muggy air as he chewed on his nails, mind jumping back as guilt welled up once more. It would be seared onto his mind forever: arm stretched out as he fought tooth and nail against the guards restraining him as they lead Steve away, tears streaming down his face with the heartbroken call of his false name rang against his ears.

He had been young, but that was no excuse. The other boy, Bucky- James, had been everything to him for those long months huddled up in the underground, noses blocked against the overwhelming stench. Faint creaking of the carriage drew him out of his maudlin mood and he scrambled down from his perch, brushing down his clothes. After all, as much as he may hate it, he was a noble and he would greet their new house guest as one, regardless of how much he was hurting.


	17. More Monster Than Man (Wood)

**Continuation of Fae AU (07/01)**

It was almost a compulsion, beginning as a weariness in his footsteps following the exhausting night, forcing fire in his veins and his head aching; then shifting into humming under his breath, fingers drumming out a rhythm only he could hear; it encroached fully onto his walking hours, feet flicking out under their own power before his body followed, shakes and shudders hitting him throughout the day like waves on a beach.

Food tasted like ash in mouth, water failed to sate the thirst consuming him. Only the items consumed in his dreams brought him any relief and even then it slipped away into nothingness when the first cold light of day hit against Bucky's sweating, trembling form.

 _My freedom for yours. My love._

Those words haunted him, ringing around his head, his own answering calls returning weak and broken to his own ears as he howled them in the dead of night. Nothing answered, the distant wolves too cowed by the lingering bells of the Fae to venture too far from their mountain peaks, and those in the village simply shut their windows a little tighter, reassuring the children that the desperate cry was nothing more than wind.

 _Promise you won't look for me_.

He had promised, he had and yet it seemed that his very soul had other plans, dark eyes staring hungrily over others heads at the smudge of the woods in the distance, searching the inky depths for any flicker of movement. The restlessness of his nights transformed into movement, feet caked with mud and blood in the morning with his prints leading up to the barrier of wood and field.

Bucky grew gaunt, hair became long and wild, voice dwindled away to nothing more than a whisper, cries no longer perceivable as words, only broken noises. People pulled their children away from him in the street when he did venture out in the light of day. And still he refrained the forest's pull, the lure of the fae, though thoughts invaded his mind, balancing him on that knife edge between sanity and madness, Steve's face swimming through his mind, expression tortured and defiant. And all Bucky's.

After all, he had promised.


	18. Back Into The Cold (Front)

**Role Reversal: Continuation of AU from 12/01**

'Triggered' was a new word, first in hushed whispers by Shield shrinks when they thought the barrier of a door was enough, and then bluntly by Sam in response to his question when he could form words, the shaking beginning to lessen and the agony in the area no longer occupied by his arm making itself known.  
So Bucky made a list, no longer having the constant presence of Steve next to him to care and fuss over amid his protests that he could do it himself. It was an old habit, even though now it was in a small bound note book and not on scraps of paper with stubs of pencils or leaking ink pens. And even so he found himself jotting small habitual notes:  
Show Steve the flowers;  
Tell Steve that joke about the dog;  
Make sure Steve takes his meds;  
amid words like: Disassociation, Traumatised, Dysfunctional.

It was such little things as well, when the screams of the children outside grew too loud, whenever the cold burnt against his single flesh hand for too long, whenever he moved too fast twisting up old pains from Zola mingled with new from Shield. One simple action and it plunged him back into that time, that cold when every breath could be your last and your heart pounded in your chest.

And Steve was there.

And Steve was here, on the bridge. Still as small and slight as he remembered, face curiously blank until it twisted into confusion, the same small crease on his forehead, crinkles around his eyes.

He was here. No longer a spectre condemned to the realms of the past, teased into life by Bucky's own tortuous memories or the tributes by Smithsonian which never measured up to the man Steve was. Bucky took a shaky step forwards, the shield with Steve's name scratched on the inside during one long walk through the occupied territories. Steve responded with the smooth raise of a gun, bullet whistling past Bucky's ear.

And that was all it took, for the cold to overtake him once more, no longer on the bridge but in the ice as he screamed and screamed, with no one to hear.


	19. Near, Far, Wherever You Are (Top)

I am so far behind like yikes. This will be finished but maybe not this year if the start is anything to go by ^^;

 **Roommate AU**

Steve had yet to meet his roommate properly. He had met them unofficially, heard them walking round another area but they had been gone before he could lay eyes on them, seen them late at night attempting to tiptoe in order not to rouse him, or early in the mornings as nothing more than a vaguely human shaped lump in the bed.

But he had communicated in notes, stuck over the small flat, with even one stuck to Steve's forehead doing nothing to alleviate the pounding headache taking root in his head. Steve kept all of his, cheering in their looping, curving, occasionally illegible scrawl, safely tucked into a box underneath his bed.

 _You can have the rest of my milk if you'd like. I'm gonna be out for a few days.  
Drink water.  
Made you leftovers.  
That drawing is adorable and Natasha thinks so too._

It drifted from to a strange sort of companionship between two orbiting satellites, seemingly doomed to never meet. Items would be left on beds, notes stuck on to them, occasionally a waxing poetic narrative, sometimes nothing more than a minute doodle. There was one vigorous game of 'Kill the sheep' which by the end had claimed three packs of sticky notes, one pack of regular lined paper, countless pens and the cost of three bus tickets as they became so engrossed in the next move, chess masters with pens and paper and a doodle of a sheep.

 _Medicine is gonna kill me, I swear. Will you wear something pretty to my funeral Stevie?  
I'll make a college of your dumb face to wear.  
Love you too, you dork._

In the idle moments of his classes, brush in hand and eyes cast to the window, Steve tried to picture his roommates face from brief glimpses of a huddled form wrapped up in blankets and a shadowed form in the dark of the early morning with vague daydreams of their first face to face meeting or was it just not fated to be?

With a sigh Steve bumped the door open, bag swinging in behind him prompting howls and crashes as Bucky toppled on top of Steve, foreheads smacking together.  
"Hi."  
"H-Hi."

 **I'm currently at university and while** **** **I may not have a roommate I have flatmates, one of whom I haven't seen face to face since November**


	20. Blast From The Past (Leather)

**I am so so so behind uwuLeather: Supplier AU**

It was a small shop, one of those advertised as a 'hidden gem' within guide books and protected by the locals judging stares. They saw the introduction of the Avenger, Hawkeye, to the smoky glass window and then for his body to continue, unimpinged by the glass which reformed around the gaping hole.

Clint blinked, hearing aids whizzing and hissing in his ears, body aching from the impact against a set of shelves and something unpleasant was slowly oozing down his back, seeping in through the gap between collar and shirt. But those sensations were not as strange as those that were noticeable in their absence: no blood mingling with the liquid, no glass piercing his skin, no bullets worming their way closer and closer to him. He was aware of someone staring at him, and slowly tipped his head backwards, hair stuck to his head with sweat to stare back at the tall man unabashedly and openly gawking at him.  
"Oh Steve's gonna love you," Clint informed him, words slipping free of his mouth before he could restrain them.  
"Will he love me more if I replace your bow?"  
The rest of his sentence was cut off by the anguished howl slipping free from Clint as all of his attention transferred in an instant to the shattered remains of his bow, cradling it in his arms like a baby.

Bucky blinked once, quirking his head to the side before shrugging, continuing in his work before he paused, frowning at the framework he had created.  
"I can fix it?" he offered and was met with large, adorable eyes staring up at him, tugging at his heartstrings as Bucky remembered the exact same eyes gazing up at him, set in his sister's faces.

"Please."

And then it was done. Broken wood, reformed with carnivore teeth back into a bow, almost seeming to purr as Clint ran reverent fingers over it. Mouth moving silently, he darted back into the fight with a delighted whoop and a promise to bring the others.

Bucky sighed and pulled out a heavy photo album, staring into bright blue eyes he thought he would never see again. What had he gotten himself into?


	21. Bound And Silent (Chalk)

**Monster Hunter AU: Continuation of 04/01**

The seconds slipped past like lead, heavy and injuring in their unhurried passing. The barrier remained firm as Steve numbly slammed his hands into it again and again, beaten red and raw against the faintly shimmering surface. He screamed once more, sounding almost demonic, his voice stolen by the waves of pain twisting his spine and forcing his form to twist.

Bucky's eyes flickered briefly open, the eyes no longer comforting, but instead a solid glistening black that was swiftly hidden once more behind fluttering lashes. Blood oozed freely over the barrier that blocked Steve's progress, dark and sticky and ice cold as it soaked the knees of Steve's trousers. A few drops of his own blood joining the mix, the bright red shocking as his teeth sunk into his lip, shoulders shaking with suppressed tears.

"It just so sad isn't it?"  
Steve started as the hand landed heavily on his shoulder, well-worn leather glove creaking.  
"It pains me to see you like this Steve," Pierce continued, his voice soft with concern as the tramping of boots met his ears, thin beams of light radiating out like flowers, highlighting the crumbling exterior of the church.  
Bucky let out a quiet growl, teeth sharpening and bulging out of his mouth, skin tearing and reforming in their wake, dark eyes slipping out of focus as he ran sharp claws against the barrier, sparks flying in their wake.

"I can't leave him like this," Steve murmured, feeling the hand tighten momentarily on his shoulder, prompting him to stand.  
"You can't view extractions Steve," Pierce consoled, voice oily and slick.

And so, heart leaden in his chest, Steve staggered outside the church, gaze not leaving Bucky's twitching form until the last possible moment.

Alone, Pierce smiled, as Bucky blinked away the fog once more to snarl and howl at the man, demonic language falling like rain from his lips.  
"Too emotional now, but you will be perfect with a few," Pierce paused, waving his hands to signal the team to swarm around them like bees, strangely objects in their hands, "adjustments. Be strong, Sergeant. I would say that you won't feel a thing, but we both know that's a lie."


	22. Flowers, Flowers Everywhere (Flower)

**Alice In Wonderland AU**

Okay. Dark brown eyes were blinked once, twice, three times and the scene before them did not change. The rabbit, frantic in its waiting as it continually checked the pocket watch from the waistcoat pocket, hind leg battering a dent into the dirt.

"What did you call me?" the boy asked, slowly scrambling up from the dirt, left sleeve hanging empty and useless.  
"Bucky," the rabbit paused and regarded him properly for what seemed like the first time, "You don't look much like a Bucky."  
"And you look like a talking rabbit in a waistcoat."  
"I'm Tony, genius extraordinaire and the reason why you are here, you're welcome."  
And with that the rabbit bounded off into the thick undergrowth which soon concealed him from sight, leaving Bucky alone except for the prickling sensation of eyes resting upon him from the shadow.

Casting his eyes slowly around him, and saw nothing. The boy straightened up, one hand shoved deep in his pocket, feigned nonchalance heavy on his shoulders and carefully began to pick his way through the undergrowth after the rabbit's disappearing footfalls. Plants clung to him, vines appearing more like grasping tendrils

Eyes watched him unseen from the thick undergrowth, body swaying to the song the boy whistled and they smiled, face pale amongst the heavy colours.  
"He's back!"  
There was a long pause where hands pressed to a mouth, eyes flickering from side to side, ears pricked for any hint of noise.

Nothing, save the dim shriek of birds far away and the cranking of the hand organ carried on the breeze as it began its eternal jig once more. They huffed out a gentle sigh of relief, squirming down from the tree careful, every creak and scrape sending their heart pounding in their chest once more.

The boy named Bucky whistled to himself as he walked after the rabbit, flowers forming a wreath as they wrapped themselves tighter into his already messy hair, the music familiar to him as his own face and yet only to him. The cranking of a hand organ reached him on the breeze and a wave of calm washed over him, hand stretching out for someone that wasn't there.


	23. Returning Home (Base)

**Blind Date AU: Continuation of 11/01**

"So what has Nat made you do? I'm guessing make you go on a blind date wasn't her first option?" Bucky asked, tugging his jacket closed once more around his work uniform, gaze calm and steady on Steve as the other bowed his head, biting his lip as he thought.  
"She has some strange ideas about what stands as normal human behaviour I think," Steve answered ruefully, biting back a small laugh.  
"I'll trade you," Bucky offered before clarifying, "a story for a story I mean."

"She tried to get me to go skydiving," Steve recalled with a humourless smile, "I had a flashback on the way up and that was the end of that."  
"I went ice skating. Wound up spending Christmas morning in A & E so not the best start."

As if on cue, Steve felt his phone buzz in his pocket as Bucky's chimed out a musical chirp where it rested on the table.

Stop talking about me and talk about each other or I will bring out those pictures Barnes.

Bucky drew in a long breath, twisting around to pull a face at Darcy, the laughing barista sticking out her tongue before ducking back down behind the bar, porcelain clinking in her arms. It was only a moment of respite but Steve took it, gaze quickly panning over Bucky in a way he was unable to do with thru weight of those dork eyes upon him.

Dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun, framing a pale face, with smears of makeup under the eyes hinting at sleepless nights even now. The edges of a tattoo peaked up over the crooked edge of his collar, seeming to spread down the left hand side of his body. His left arm was held stiffly by his side, pulling his body downwards. But he was beautiful.

"Sorry bout that Steve," Bucky said, looking slightly abashed as he turned back to Steve, "but she will make good on that threat."  
Upon seeing Steve frown slightly, eyes lighting up with curiosity, Bucky laughed, shaking his head, "Let's just say, don't be base in a game of tig for a large group of small messy children."


	24. Falling Down, Down (Offer)

**Canon Divergence - Both Fall**

Maybe in another life, the metal would have remained firm underneath Steve's hand and only Bucky would have fallen to the waiting maw of Hydra far below on the ice, in another neither of them tumbled from the train, remaining safe with their found family.

However, this was neither of those universe and as Bucky slipped from the train, Steve dived for him, one bruising hand closing around his wrist as the metal support separated and they both fell.

The wind tore away their screams as they fell, gazes wrenched from the over under tumble of icy ground and clear blue sky to each other's terrified faces. Strong arms encircled Bucky, pulling him closer into Steve as his own arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

"Why'd yah follow me punk?" Bucky howled, voice breaking with fear and anger, "You had a life up there, I got nothing."  
Steve pressed his face closer, breath mingling with Bucky's as piercing blue eyes stared deeply into his.  
"I told you before, Bucky, and I'll tell you again."

The ground was getting closer now, air whistling around him.

"Bucky!" Steve shouted, wrenching his attention back to him as they rotated once more, Steve's face outlined by the white of the ground.

"I love you Bucky, have done my whole life and I am with you til the end of the line."

Bucky slammed his lips against Steve, uncaring of the pain or the cold, blood mingling from cuts on their lips.

"I love you too Steve. I'm sorry."

Steve had the height and the weight on Bucky now, he knew that for certain after all those nights together, exploring the possibilities that this freedom with even more scrutiny would bring. Steve even had the upper hand on taking down those larger than him, with fists raised and teeth bared against the world. But Bucky had an entire lifetime's worth of experience keeping Steve safe by any means necessary.

And so he did just that, twisting them around and bracketing Steve's head as much as he could with his weaker body, Bucky pressed a final kiss to Steve as his eyes slid shut for what he feared was the final time.


	25. That Night (Mountain)

**Fallen Angel AU  
Continuation of 01/01**

It was an old legend in their town that the Gods would watch over them in exchange for a sacrifice of one of those dedicated to them every year. Steve and Bucky knew this as well as everyone, but that that meant they were alive and together. And that was what mattered. They were safe, unclaimed by any, they picked out a harsh living, fighting for survival against all around them, yet they were safe from retribution from the mountain.

The raiders came in the night, slipping over the wall like a plague with drawn blades, as predicted in the fires and smoke, seen in the herb induced visions. So the people fought, those dedicated for War with howls as their minds were lost to the bloodshed; those to Knowledge crept through the streets, chosen weapons close with every strike careful and calculated; those to the Crafts turned their gift to blood, hammers striking against skulls, hooks turned to barbs in skin, buildings reduced to rubble to crush the invading army; and those dedicated to Death strode calmly amongst the battle, their blades invisible and deadly as the one they served.

Those undedicated fled, too weak to hold a weapon and defend their homes, too sick to make a difference, too afraid and untrained.

It was a night that Steve remembered well. The sensation of Bucky's arms under him as the other scooped his fragile form up, blankets and all, his panicked breaths in Steve's ear as he ran through the streets, fights erupting all around them like wildfires. Almost in slow motion in the fever bright clarity of his memory it happened: a man strode round the corner, his garb foreign and a longsword stained red held heavy in his hand, face twisting into a cruel smile.

Steve knew Death, had faced them every time he continued to draw breath even as it burned his lungs, as did Bucky, fighting through the illnesses that ravaged them in summer in order to keep Steve safe. And Steve knew it now as Bucky moved, putting himself in between the blade and Steve, hot blood showering his face as darkness claimed him once more, an old friend's embrace.


	26. Shot Through The Heart (Blood)

**Vampire AU**

Blood

Steve liked to think he had a handle on the whole vampire thing since he woke in that alleyway almost five years ago. Admittedly the waking up in an alleyway was nothing new, but the hypersensitivity was, as well as the new sharp teeth which would frequently cut into his bottom lip.

Some adjustment had been required, friends had to be informed of his new 'health issue,' then life continued on as normal, albeit reversed to how it was previously. Natasha still dragged him out drinking when she felt he was isolating himself, Darcy dropped in to watch whatever her latest TV obsession was, and Tony would crash on his couch whenever he felt overwhelmed. It was as normal a life as it could be.

The man was unconscious, slumped in an alleyway, as rain ran heavily over his exposed skin, pooling in fresh wounds. Steve stood there frozen, tiredness washed from his system as adrenaline began to take its place, Steve's heart still frozen in his chest. Taking a deep breath, the sachet of blood was in his hand almost before he realised what had happened, fangs piercing through the plastic and the metal hit his tongue.

Heat returned to his skin, his heart began to thump once more and the alcohol buzz drained from his system as he carefully jogged over to the man, gaze flickering around the alleyway for the cause of those devastating injuries.  
"Hello? Can you hear me?"  
The man rolled his eyes in his skull, open and staring and yet not seeing Steve, almost seeming to look through him. A low snarl left his lips, more animal than man, as he tried to scramble to his feet, pressing himself further away from Steve into the dark of the alley.  
"I'm not gonna hurt you," Steve tried again, carefully crouching down and peering into the gloom.  
"Won't go back," the man snarled, teeth bared as he glared down the alleyway past Steve.  
"That's fine," Steve said immediately, "I've got a first aid kit in my car if you'd like, then you can go."  
The man paused, staring directly at Steve for a long moment before letting out a bark like laugh.


End file.
